


Runaway

by little0bird



Series: Dog Star Rising [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Refuge, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird





	Runaway

Sirius opened his eyes. The ornate weave of the carpet swam into focus under his nose. He gingerly shifted and inched his way onto all fours. The backs of his legs and buttocks burned. He stifled a groan, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Sirius unfastened his trousers and eased them down, taking care to not let the fabric touch his skin. He whimpered when he tried to slide his pants down to his ankles, and the waistband brushed over a particularly sore spot on his bottom. Sirius gripped the edge of his desk and stepped out of his clothing, and then shuffled to the heavy cheval mirror in the corner and turned around to examine the extent of the damage. 

 

The belt buckle had broken the skin in a few places, but he thankfully wasn’t bleeding. Welts criss crossed his buttocks, so red they nearly glowed in the gloomy light. Sirius reached back and lightly traced the beginnings of a bruise that had already begun to turn a dusky purple. 

 

Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face, smearing tears across his cheeks. He’d been afraid they were going to kill him this time. Fortunately for him, their arms wore out well before their resolve. Sirius opened a drawer in the desk and removed a small tin of powdered bitterroot and sprinkled it over the worst of the welts. It wouldn’t heal the wounds, but it would deaden the pain long enough for him to make his way somewhere safe. His shoulders slumped as the herb took effect. Sirius dug clean pants and trousers from his wardrobe and slowly pulled them on, plans spinning wildly in his head. 

 

He could go to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t that far. But he was underage, and they’d never rent him a room for a few nights. They did have a Floo connection. He could easily Floo to most wizarding communities, because the always had a small pub where one could Floo in or out. He’d never be able to Floo from the house. Sirius reckoned his father had disconnected the Floo here due to his paranoia anyway. He could go to Prongsie’s house. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were good people, and they’d give him shelter if he asked. 

 

Sirius risked casting a charm to shrink his school trunk. Living in a magical household gave him enough cover that it wouldn’t trigger the Trace. 

 

Once Sirius had managed to don socks and shoes, there was nothing more to do but stuff his trunk into his knapsack and creep down the stairs. He stealthily opened the front door, and  slipped through the smallest possible crack. He walked away, and didn’t look back. 

 

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded enough that no one remarked on his presence.  He dropped a few Knuts into a jar that dispensed a handful of Floo powder from a small spout.  He quickly threw the powder into the flames and nearly ran into the fireplace, wincing as his knapsack bumped against a bruise on his back.  

 

The pub in Ilkley was quiet, and more than one person glanced up from their drink and stared at Sirius with frank curiosity.  He ducked his head and hurried from the pub, sketching a nod at the patrons, heading for the road that led to a valley nestled in the woods.  

 

Sirius trudged up the lane to the Potters’ house -- three stories of red brick, with white-framed windows marching across the face of the house in orderly rows.  Sirius wondered if Roderick and Eleanor Potter had intended to fill the house with offspring, but they only had James. Sirius veered off the gravel drive and rounded the corner of the house, and made his way to the back of the house and the kitchen.  The Potters tended to adhere to mealtimes of an earlier era, sitting down to dinner at eight. They also eschewed conventions of their wealth and status and ate in the kitchen. 

 

Sirius rapped lightly on the door.  ‘Come in!’ Eleanor called. The door swung open and Sirius sidled in.  Eleanor beamed at him. ‘Have you eaten dinner?’ she asked. Sirius shook his head.  Eleanor waved her wand at the old-fashioned dresser and a place setting floated to the table.  ‘Sit yourself down.’ Sirius gulped and carefully repositioned the seat cushion on the chair and carefully perched on the edge, trying to keep as much of his body off the chair as possible.  James turned to him, brow furrowed with questions, but Sirius shook his head. James shrugged and spooned peas onto Sirius’ plate. Sirius tried to eat more than a few mouthfuls of his dinner, but his stomach still roiled from earlier.  He moved food around his plate, murmuring responses to questions and comments from Eleanor and Roderick. He dutifully attempted the pudding, and to his eternal relief, Eleanor began to clear the table. ‘Jamie, why don’t you go and make up the bed in the room next to yours?’ Eleanor suggested.  Sirius managed a wan snicker at the use of James’ nickname. 

 

Eleanor indicated the knapsack Sirius had left next to the door.  ‘Did you bring anything else?’

 

‘My school trunk is in it,’ Sirius said.  ‘So just my things for school.’

 

‘I see.’

 

‘I can go stay with my uncle Alphard, but I’ll need to send an owl first,’ Sirius blurted.

 

‘You’ll stay with us until school begins, young man,’ Eleanor said sternly.  She patted him firmly on the back, and Sirius yelped as she inadvertently hit the bruise.  Eleanor grabbed the back of Sirius’ shirt and tugged the collar aside. She made a small noise in the back of her throat.  ‘Is that the only one?’ 

 

Sirius shook his head.

 

‘Where else?’

 

‘Backs of my legs,’ Sirius murmured, feeling his face erupt into flames.

 

‘Where?’

 

Sirius looked out of the window.  ‘Bum to ankles,’ he said shortly.

‘Go upstairs.  I’ll bring some salve up.’

 

Sirius eased himself to his feet and grabbed his knapsack.  He limped up the stairs, which felt interminable today. He walked into the room next to James’ and dropped his knapsack.  Eleanor knocked on the doorframe. She held out a small jar with bright green paste. ‘It won’t make the bruises go away completely, but it will help.’

 

‘Thanks,’  Sirius took the jar from her and pried off the lid, lifting it to his nose.

 

‘It’s just aloe, calendula, camomile, and arnica,’ Eleanor told him.  ‘Three times a day.’

 

Sirius nodded, and Eleanor closed the door.  He stiffly stripped and began to gingerly rub the salve into his skin.

 

‘Hey, Padfoot, Mum said you…’ James barrelled through the door of the bathroom that connected their bedrooms.  He came to a stop, a set of pajamas clutched in his hands. ‘Didn’t bring pajamas.’ James pressed his lips into a thin line.  ‘What happened to you?’

 

‘My father,’ Sirius told him, stepping into his pants.  He snatched the pajamas from James and pulled the bottoms on, then presented his back to James.  ‘Could you put this on?’

 

‘Why did your father hit you?’ James asked, taking the jar and scooping up a dollop of paste.  He spread it over the bruise.

 

Sirius shrugged with the other shoulder.  ‘The usual,’ he muttered. The usual encompassed everything from being Sorted into Gryffindor, his refusal to take down the pictures of Muggle motorbikes, not being Regulus, insubordination.  The usual now included his preference for men. Sirius didn’t know how his father knew. It might have been a gesture or stance that Orion Black considered effete. Or he’d found Sirius’ stash of magazines.  Or someone had seen Sirius at one of the clubs. It wasn’t the first time this summer Orion had beaten Sirius. Nor was it the first time that Orion had beaten Sirius, vowing to beat the perversion out of him.  

 

‘I’m sorry.’  James set the jar on the night table.  

 

Sirius slid the pajama top over his arms.  ‘I’m seventeen in October. I’ll be of age and they can’t make me do anything.’  He padded to the bed and crawled into it. ‘If I never have to go back to Grimmauld Place, it’ll be too soon,’ he sighed, before closing his eyes.

  
  



End file.
